Dear Mr Truth
by Osidiano
Summary: Written for the pwkm: "Klavier takes up a new career; he starts writing for a sex advice column in a newspaper." Archived here are only the parts that I wrote, as I didn't want to take credit for the letters/sections other anons did in the round robin. It accidentally became a Klapollo case fic.
1. Chapter 1

**1/1**

 _Dear Mr. Truth,_

 _I'm a mature, twenty-two year old man with a respectable job and an almost overpowering crush on another man that I work with. He has no clue that I like him, or even that I'm gay. I'm pretty sure that he is straight, and may have a girlfriend (or two). Anyway, it's starting to get to the point that whenever we have to work together, all I can think about is having him wrap his wallet chain around my neck as he brutally fucks me over his motorcycle, on the witness stand, or behind the courthouse. It's kind of distracting, to say the least, and fantasizing about it just isn't helping anymore. Please help me! – Attorney in Need_

Klavier gaped at the latest email he had received begging for relationship advice. He had recently signed up with local gay-friendly periodical – The Truth about Love – to write a column while the regular "Mr. Love" was out on a month long Sabbatical. Hence, he had suddenly become "Mr. Truth" and had to read over a whole slew of embarrassing and intimate letters from the periodical's dedicated readers. He blinked a few times and read over the email again. Honestly, he had no idea how to respond. . .without asking if it was _specific_ to that _particular_ man or just a general desire to be pressed over a motorcycle behind the courthouse and roughly taken from behind. Klavier tapped his finger on his desk next to the keyboard for a moment before finally opening up another email. Maybe this one would be easier to reply to. . .?


	2. Chapter 2

Parts 2 through 7 were other letters written in to the advice column. Parts 8 and 9 involved Klavier getting dragged out to a crime scene by Detective Skye, which is where we meet up with our intrepid prosecutor.

 **10/1**

Klavier looked over the report in his hand dubiously, glancing up over the edge of the paper every so often to watch the defense attorney question one of the detectives about the state of the victim's body when it was found. Surprisingly, this time it was wasn't Ema; she was busy overseeing the movement of the body and cussing out the official forensics team at the moment. But, as per usual, Apollo had arrived at the crime scene – which, in this case, was by the front desk in the defendant's mechanic shop – probably only moments after accepting the man's request to serve as his defense, with Trucy in tow. Klavier sighed, reread the names, time of death, and preliminary findings, and set out to rescue the annoyed detective.

"Ah, Herr Forehead," the prosecutor laughed the nickname, leaning over the shoulder of the detective to smile at the other attorney. "It has been awhile since our last case together, ja?"

Apollo looked away, brows furrowed and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. It was not quite the expression of joy – or even of discomfort, given what he'd read earlier – that Klavier had been hoping for. "Prosecutor Gavin, I'm representing the defendant, Mr. Richard Gaylord."

"Of course you are. Well then, ask me what you like, and let the good detective get back to work."

"Let's start with the crime scene. Can you tell me what you think happened?" Apollo had pulled out his court file and a pen, preparing to take notes on the legal pad that he kept in there. Klavier straightened, tweaking his bangs a little as he answered:

"Oh, I think that this should be an easy one, Herr Forehead. The victim – Thomas Lionee – was found by the desk at about 3:15, dirty rag in his mouth, probably used as a gag, and tape around his wrists. The murder weapon is an adjustable socket wrench, and," he leaned forward again with a soft smile. Regardless of his feelings for the other man, Klavier was strictly business when on the scene. "It, of course, belonged to your client, and is covered with his prints."

Apollo jotted down the information regarding the weapon and then glanced over to the bloody desk. "So. . .death by blunt force trauma?"

"Or blood loss, maybe. The wrench hit Lionnee in the back of the head repeatedly, taking out a chunk of his skull. We won't know how many blows until after the autopsy's been completed. I think that it's safe to say that this was a crime of passion, though."

". . .of p-passion?" Apollo faltered, tapping his pen on the legal pad and looking up with some confusion.

"Ja, Herr Forehead. Only a blind and crazed passion would drive a man to beat another after he is dead. Something had to keep him from noticing that the struggle was over."

"That's speculation, Gavin," the defense attorney shook his head, as if trying to clear it of such thoughts. "Anyway, that chalk outline looks a little odd. . . Where was the body, exactly?"

Klavier turned his gaze to the desk and white outline in question. The chalk was drawn over the top and down the side of the desk, trailing out over the outline of feet on the floor. The prosecutor shrugged, opening the report and pulling out a crime scene photograph that had been paperclipped to one of the pages.

"The body was draped over the desk when the police arrived," the prosecutor handed the photo over, watching as Apollo carefully examined it. "We suspect that Gaylord pinned him there while beating him to death and –"

"Hold it!" Apollo shouted, pointing to part of the photo. "What is that in his hands?"

Klavier blinked, tilting his head a little. "It looks like a telephone."

"Then. . .where are the buttons?"

"Old telephones didn't have buttons, Herr Forehead; you put your finger in the little hole over the number that you wanted, and spun it around to the silver stopper there," Klavier explained, pointing out the pieces that he described. "Then, it spins back to its normal position, and you do the same thing with the next digit until you've dialed all the numbers and your call connects."

"His wrists are tied together with tape and he's holding the phone. You don't think that's a little odd?"

"Maybe the killer was using it as a weight to keep Lionnee from falling. It looks pretty heavy, ja?"

"Where is it now?"

Klavier smiled again, tucking his thumbs through the belt loops on the front of his pants. "I'm afraid that we'll have to call it a day, Herr Forehead; I've told you everything that I can. I'm prosecuting this case, remember? I'm certainly not going to help you build yours."

"Wait! What about witnesses?"

"You'll meet them at the trial tomorrow, of course. _Auf wiedersehen_ , Herr Forehead."


	3. Chapter 3

The court convenes! Everyone's name is a bad pun. The woman's name is 'hastiLy skiM' spelled backwards. Originally I had Miksy refer to Thomas and Robert Lionnee as 'Tom and Rob,' but I decided to change the latter nickname while archiving because we all know that the bad pun I'm making is that these two dudes are actually named Tom Cat and Bob Cat. :\

 **11/1**

 _9:42 a.m. Defendant Lobby #2, District Courthouse._

He was not nervous. Klavier Gavin was _never_ nervous before a trial. He was smooth, calm and collected; he flashed charming smiles at the guards and bailiffs, and flirted with young law interns in the lobby while waiting. Still, his lines did not seem quite as polished this time; they fell from his lips with that practiced ease that no one likes to hear. The girls did not seem to notice — they still blushed and tittered and stammered — but Klavier noticed, and he cursed himself silently. His game was usually spot-on, but not today. Maybe it was because he had not slept very well last night; he kept waking up in the middle of the night panting with the image of a certain attorney writhing beneath him.

The young prosecutor quickly shook the memory from his mind and excused himself from a conversation that he had only vaguely been paying attention to with some intern whose name he could not recall. His brain seemed to have rewired itself since reading those emails for The Truth about Love, and now his thoughts grew steadily dirtier as time went on. And he still had not responded to any of them! Honestly, he had no idea how he was supposed to come up with solutions for those tricky situations.

Especially Apollo's situation. He had not seen Apollo since the crime scene yesterday, and even if he did run into him, he was not sure what he would say to the other man outside of their usual courtroom banter. Because, really, he did not want to say anything to him at all. Why bother with words when he was so sure that they were playing the same beat? This was the one time when Klavier ached for a clean, instrumental piece instead of some complicated lyrics to be misunderstood.

Klavier sighed, and fidgeted with his bangs. But really, he knew that this was no time to be agonizing over his personal life. He had a trial to run, after all. All this drama and sexual tension would just have to wait until after the jury had issued a verdict.

"—Don't worry, Polly! We've got this!" Klavier heard the unmistakably upbeat voice of Trucy Wright from a few feet away, and glanced over to see the small magician tugging the defense attorney towards the open doors leading into the courtroom. A pep talk, before the curtains had even gone up? Hearing that gave Klavier a small boost of confidence. If Apollo was already apprehensive about his client's situation, than maybe the truth that the prosecution had uncovered would stand. He followed the two of them into the courtroom.

They took their respective positions on opposite sides of the room, a small smile playing on the prosecution's lips. It seemed that there was no way that Apollo was going to be able to talk his client out of this guilty verdict this time, if he was to judge the other attorney's case by the present frown on his countenance. Klavier went over his preparations from yesterday in his head. He had double and triple checked the evidence he had prepared for today. He had personally interviewed and cross-examined his star witness no less than four times, throwing in all kinds of crazy, off-the-wall accusations to make sure that the young man would not be changing his testimony partway through the trial. The case he had put together against Richard Gaylord was, without a doubt, flawless. Even with a jury whose emotions could be swayed one way or another with the right theatrics, Klavier was certain that he had seen the truth and could lead them all to it. The situation was simple: Richard Gaylord had bound, beaten, and killed Thomas Lionnee. There could be no other logical explanation, given the circumstances.

Behind the defense's bench, Klavier could see Apollo shuffling papers and photographs in his court file uneasily. _How cute_ , he thought. _My poor Justice already knows he's in for a rough show_. The judge's gavel came down hard, quieting the room murmuring crowd and bringing the room to order.

"Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Richard Gaylord," the judge announced, looking over to Apollo. "Is the defense ready?"

"The defense is ready, Your Honor," Apollo spoke with a calm and even tone, but Klavier did not need any magic perception to be able to tell that the other attorney was not nearly as composed as he had hoped to appear. It did not help the defense's case that he had looked over to his assistant for a nod before answering. Cases with Apollo defending, while always fun and over-the-top, rarely went his way. And they never, _ever_ went by quickly. He hoped that today, maybe, they could overthrow the current status quo.

"And the prosecution?" the judge had turned his ponderous old gaze on him now, and Klavier leaned over the desk a little with a smirk.

"I'm always ready to rock, Herr Judge."

"Then you may give your opening statement to the court."

"The victim, Thomas Lionnee, was an employee of 'Gaylord's Automotive and Lube Shoppe.' He was found in the shop's lobby, bent over the front desk, bound and gagged yesterday afternoon," Klavier held up the autopsy report, along with several photographs from the crime scene. "The prosecution would like to admit these to the court record."

"The court accepts these documents into evidence," the judge announced with a nod, gesturing for Klavier to continue.

"The prosecution will first establish a motive for the murder. Mr. Gaylord was a violent man, you see, with a raging history and habit of overreacting, as our first witness will attest to now," Klavier snapped his fingers at the bailiff, who scurried to back to the door to retrieve the individual in question.

"You're moving awfully fast today, Gavin," Apollo noted with some suspicion, dark eyes narrowing. "Usually, you give more time for. . .er, a warm-up? Anyway, it's not like you."

"Ja, Herr Forehead, but why bore the audience with a opening show no one wants to pay to see?" Klavier shrugged, then reached up to play with the tips of his bangs again. "Besides, you don't seem like the kind of guy who appreciates foreplay."

"Objection!" the defense attorney blushed the same shade as his suit, his finger trembling in the air between them as he pointed at the prosecution, sputtering for some kind of retort as the bailiff returned with the witness, who took to the stand just as Apollo shouted out his comeback. "Y-you can't say things like that in a court room!"

"On the contrary, I can say whatever I want. The court can choose to have it omitted from the records if it finds my commentary to be unsuited to the case at hand. Speaking of the case, I'd like to get started."

Apollo fumed, but put his hand down on the bench and turned his attention to the witness that had just arrived. She was a small women, with mousy brown hair that fell to her shoulders in uneven layers and large, dark-framed lenses that hid her eyes from view.

"Name and occupation, if you would be so kind, fraulein."

"I-I'm Miksy Litash, and I-I run errands f-for Mr. Gaylord," the young woman answered meekly, looking down at the tiled floor. Klavier gave her a small smile, knowing that it would not help, but hoping all the same that she would remain calm. Miksy was a timid, often nervous girl, judging from their interaction yesterday when he prepped her for the stand. But really, there was nothing to be worried over; all she had to do was give the same testimony that she had given him before. He had made sure that there was nothing in her testimony for Apollo to rip apart.

"Fraulein, please testify as to the nature of your employer, and what you witnessed yesterday afternoon."

"O-okay. . ." Miksy looked back up, adjusting her glasses a little before tucking a few loose strands of her hair behind one ear. "Well, I-I stop by the shop every day just before noon to check in with Mr. Gaylord and get Tom and Bob's lunch orders. If I show up any later than 11:30, M-Mr. Gaylord gets really angry. He says that being on time is very important, and he'll yell at me and sometimes throw things if I'm late. When I went in yesterday, it was just past 11:30 — I-I remember because I was scared going in. But Mr. Gaylord was busy yelling at Tom, and must not have noticed me. He. . .well, and Tom. . . I-I didn't want to get dragged into things if they got into a fight, so I left in a hurry."

Klavier shook his head sympathetically, frowning. "What a cruel man. . . You said that he threw things at you? What kind of things?"

"Oh, you know. . ." Miksy looked back down at the floor. "Nuts and bolts, buckets, the occasional scheduling book or pipe-fitting. I might not look it, but I'm pretty fast, so I can usually dodge them."

"I see," Klavier leaned forward over the bench, turning his mega-watt smile to the defense attorney across the room, who was going over something in his court files and seemed to be trying to ignore the murmuring of their audience and the disapproving glare from the judge. He hoped that Apollo had not been planning on using a character defense to help get Gaylord out of this mess. "No further questions, Herr Judge."

"Your witness, Mr. Justice."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Apollo quickly wiped the look of worry from his face and turned his attention to the witness. "Miss Litash, you mentioned that you were scared to go into the shop due to my client's. . . uhm, rough nature, but can you be more specific? Where, _exactly_ , were you at 'just past 11:30?'"

"I-I. . ." Miksy bit down on her lower lip, and Klavier started to get that ominous, sinking feeling in his gut that meant that he had missed something yesterday. "By the front door, leading into the lobby."

"Is that important, Mr. Justice?" the judge asked, both of his bushy white brows raised as he blinked owlishly at the smaller man. Apollo nodded.

"Your Honor, I believe that it is very important, and I would like for this information to be added to the current testimony," he said, and with a nod from the judge, continued his cross-examination. "Now, Miss Litash, there's one other question that I have for you."

"Wh-what's that?"

"I noticed that you have a tendency to play with your glasses whenever you're unsure about something, which is exactly what you did when you said the word 'fight,'" Apollo looked smug as he spoke, and Klavier frowned. He didn't really remember whether or not Miksy had done that, but then again, Apollo was always pulling this perceptive stunt. Looking at his witness, the prosecution could see that it was working once more; Miksy was biting her lower lip and rubbing anxiously at the side of her neck. "Mr. Lionnee and Mr. Gaylord weren't really 'fighting,' were they?"

"Mr. Gaylord was yelling at him."

"But he was doing that for a reason, wasn't he?"

"Objection!" Klavier took the practiced stance, arm outstretched and finger pointing accusingly at his adversary. "Unless you have proof, Herr Forehead, this is only meaningless conjecture."

"Funny you should mention 'proof,' Gavin," Apollo chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking. Was it just him, or had Apollo gotten better at this since their last case together? As the trial was progressing, the defense attorney seemed to be throwing aside whatever it was that had him looking so apprehensive in the lobby. Klavier did not think that this was going to bode well for him. "Because you already submitted it for me."

"W-what?"

"I'd like everyone to take a closer look at the autopsy report. Specifically, page two, down in the notes."

Klavier looked down at his own copy of the report, and when he saw it, he paled. How could he have overlooked—?

"That's right, Gavin: our victim had a BAC of .27 at the time of his death, which is stated as being sometime between noon and one o'clock. It's pretty safe to say that at 'just past 11:30,' he was already drunk."

"But it wasn't even five o'clock _somewhere_!" the judge exclaimed.

"Well, Mr. Lionnee had a history of starting early. I have the write-ups from his work right here, telling us that this wasn't the first time he had come into work after imbibing. In fact," Apollo's smirk grew larger, and Klavier clenched his hand into a fist on top of the bench. "It was the _third time that week_."

"The court accepts these into evidence!"

"Objection!" Klavier shook his head to clear it, trying to grasp the little information that he remembered about blood alcohol content levels from his high school health class. "At a BAC of .27, he would have been unconscious."

"Not if he was a chronic alcoholic, which is what the evidence suggests."

"How can you talk about the dead like that?!" Miksy scolded the defense, holding herself protectively, as if she feared some physical retort. "Tom was a good guy!"

"I'm not saying that he wasn't. I'm saying that he was being chewed out by his boss for coming into work inebriated, which would be not only totally acceptable, but completely expected in this situation. If you were in the shop with them, even by the door, you would have been able to hear their conversation and see Mr. Lionnee, who was obviously not sober. So, it begs to be asked: if you were by the door, what were you doing?"

"I-I-I. . .that is, I. . ." Miksy faltered again, looking to Klavier for help. But he couldn't help. Apollo had a point, and if he objected to it now, it would only be overruled. The prosecutor dropped his gaze to his hand. They had spent _hours_ preparing this witness. . . She had been told how important it was for her to be _completely_ honest when she testified and had been warned that lying under oath was a crime. So why had she had done it anyway? Miksy hunched down on the witness stand, as though trying to hide. "I-I can explain!"

"Is there something you would like to add to your testimony?" the judge asked. Miksy nodded. "Very well. Please, Miss Litash, tell the court what it was that you were doing by the door."

"Mr. Gaylord really is an angry man. And he does yell a lot. You can ask anybody," Miksy said, standing back up and rubbing at her neck again as she looked down at the witness stand as she spoke. "And. . .and he did yell at Tom a lot for drinking. But Tom has had it rough lately! Things aren't good with. . .well, they just weren't good. Anyway, I heard the yelling, and I was pretty sure that Mr. Gaylord was going to throw stuff at anyone who got in the way, so I peeked into the lobby really quick. I was too afraid to go inside, so I went to get Bob."

"Mr. Justice, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Apollo nodded to the judge, and leaned forward on the defense bench, peering at the witness critically. "Miss Litash, tell me a little bit more about 'peeking' into the lobby."

"What do you mean?" Miksy asked nervously. That ominous feeling was back in Klavier's stomach. He hadn't thought anything was odd with this new bit of testimony, but that didn't mean much when it came to these kinds of cases. And he was getting more and more certain that this was going to turn into one of _those_ cases. So much for it being 'flawless.'

"I mean, what did you see?"

"I saw. . . I saw Mr. Gaylord's back. He was standing in front of the desk, and Tom was sitting on the other side."

"Okay. . .and were they still like that when you came back?"

"Huh?" Miksy seemed genuinely surprised at the question.

"With Bob. Where they still in those positions when you came back after getting Bob?"

"O-oh. . .well, I don't know."

Apollo and Klavier both shared a brief moment of mutual surprise, but the defense recovered quickly amidst the buzz of speculation from the courtroom galley. "What? You didn't go back in?"

"No, of course not!" Miksy put a hand to her chest, slightly aghast at the suggestion. "I never stepped inside that lobby. I was scared, y'know? That's why I went to get Bob. I didn't want to get in the way, because, y'know, Tom and Mr. Gaylord were. . .er, _peculiar_ , you know?"

What on Earth did she mean by that? Klavier opened his mouth to ask, but Apollo beat him to it.

"Peculiar? In what way?"

"Well, they. . . _you_ _know_ ," Miksy stressed the words, squirming uncomfortably. When it became deafeningly apparent that neither attorney did 'know,' she blushed so hard that Klavier was certain her head was at dire risk of exploding from the rise in blood pressure. "I-I-I. . .! Look, I didn't want to walk in on something. Not that I mean anything by that! It's just. . . well, they. . . I mean. . . It-it happened once before after they fought, and Tom had just seemed so embarrassed and. . . and I just didn't want that to happen again, and. . . and. . . And we shouldn't talk about the dead like this! We're all horrible! Horrible, _horrible_ people!"

"Something?" Klavier pressed, looking for clarification. Miksy slumped down behind the witness stand so far that he thought for a moment that she would disappear from view completely. As it was, only the top of her mousy brown hair was still visible.

"That's none of your business!"

The courtroom erupted in chatter at the witness's outburst. The judge had to bang his gavel several times to quiet down the growing ruckus, ordering the room to return to silence. When it finally complied, he heaved a great sigh. "I am ordering a ten minute recess. Perhaps you can use that time to calm your witness down, Mr. Gavin?"


End file.
